


everything to lose

by RosaF7



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, Endgame Otayuri, Endgame YuriYuu, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Future Fic, M/M, No Smut, Polyamory Negotiations, Relationship Negotiation, Sadly, and, daddybek, eventual polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-01 12:56:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10190360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaF7/pseuds/RosaF7
Summary: "It all starts with a kiss. It’s an impulsive kiss, made through the haze of alcohol, a barely thought out action. He’d just looked so irresistible, his cheeks bright and rosy, his glasses slipping down his nose, his laugh infectious."In which Yuri is deeply in love with Otabek, his boyfriend of nearly ten years, but falls in love with Yuuri too. In a moment of weakness, Yuri kisses Yuuri, and now he could lose everything.Set 15 years into the future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> uuugh i had to break up victor and yuuri for this, i felt horrible but this would never ever happen and victor and yuuri will live happily ever after in canon together, forever, so it's alright. 
> 
> i just think yurio's adorable little crush on yuuri in the show is so sweet? but then i thought but wait what if he somehow ends up with a crush on him in the future too when they are close and friends AND he's with otabek and AAAAAAAAH and here we are. 
> 
> so this is set in universe, but 15 years into the future. they are all retired from skating. 
> 
> yuri is 30, otabek is 33 and yuuri is 38. 
> 
> warnings: daddybek. there's no smut (sadly), but there is like teasing and the lead up and related stuff and daddybek is definitely a Thing.
> 
> also this isn't beta'd and it's longer than what i'm used to writing, hopefully there aren't too many typos and the such like, but let me know if there are!

It all starts with a kiss.

It’s an impulsive kiss, made through the haze of alcohol, a barely thought out action.

He’d just looked so irresistible, his cheeks bright and rosy, his glasses slipping down his nose, his laugh infectious.

He won’t lie. He’s thought of it before. Yes, back when he was an irate fifteen year old with an unwanted and overwhelming crush on his rival and secret idol. But also more recently, when he is a slightly less irate thirty year old with an unwanted and overwhelming crush on his former rival, secret idol and closest _friend_.

Closest friend _aside_ from his best friend, who is also his _boyfriend_. 

So he’s thought of it before. But he had resisted. It was the right thing to do.

But this thing between them has been growing slowly and unexpectedly, ever since Victor left. When he broke Yuuri’s heart and walked out, leaving him heartbroken, and a mess. Yuri loved them both dearly, loathe as he had been to admit it when he was younger. Yuuri and Victor had wriggled themselves into his heart, without his permission, when he was fifteen, and had been there, ever since.

So it’s not that he doesn’t care about Victor. He does. But he’s angry at him too, because he left. And he had always been closer to Yuuri, found it easier to talk to him, about things that mattered. And when Victor left, Yuri found himself trying to help pick up the pieces. Being one of the main people Yuuri relied on, dragging him out when he had spent too long on his own, spending hours on the phone comforting him, talking him through the heartbreak of a future without the one person Yuuri had grown to be certain of. It had been almost 7 months now. Friday nights have become Yuri and Yuuri’s thing, always this bar, this seat, this spot. But it’s normal now, too, for them to see each other several times a week, and speak to each other every day as well. 

He hadn’t expected his old crush to be revived, nor for it to grow into something more profound. It’s unwanted, it’s complicated and it’s unnecessary. But he can’t stop his feelings, can’t stop the way his heart speeds up when he sees that its Yuuri calling him, or the way his face warms when Yuuri gives him a genuine smile, or the thoughts he has sometimes, at night, of kissing Yuuri softly before moving his mouth slowly and intentionally down his body. He wants to yell at him when he talks shit about himself, because no one should talk shit about Yuuri Katsuki. He wants to fight anyone who would dare hurt him. He wants to hold him close and listen to him talk for hours. He wants to wake up next to Yuuri, curled up warm and satiated by his side.

He hadn’t expected his old crush to be revived, but more than that, he had definitely not expected it to be reciprocated. But in the last two months, he’d noticed Yuuri changing the way he treated him. Noticed his lingering looks, the way he’d quickly turn aside if Yuri caught him. Noticed the way he blushed whenever their bodies would accidently brush against each other. Noticed that he called him, more often. Noticed that he always had time for him, no matter was else was going on, that he always wanted to see Yuri.

So maybe it doesn’t _start_ with a kiss.

But the kiss changes _everything_.

-

Yuuri pulls back first, face flushed and eyes wide. “Yuri, we can’t,” He gasps out, scooting backwards so that he is pressed up against the back of the lounge, putting as much distance between himself and Yuri as possible.

Yuri leans forward, following those sweet, inviting lips, but stops short. “I want to,” He says simply, because it’s true, and because he can’t argue that they _can_. The alcohol makes him bold. “ _You_ want to, as well.”

“I –” Yuuri shakes his head, and glances around the bar before gently pushing Yuri back into his own seat. “Yuri, please just –someone could see us.”

Yuri complies reluctantly, leaning back in his seat as he lets his eyes wonder across Yuuri. Yuuri is flustered, and flushed, and _all_ because they kissed. Just one kiss, a brief, sweet unsure thing. He imagines what he would look like after several kisses, or more. It’s a sight he desperately wants to see.

“Yuri, you and I –Yuri, you’re a good friend, and I really appreciate –”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Yuri interrupts sharply. “Yeah, we’re friends. But don’t pretend like there’s not something else too.”

Yuuri sighs, and places his head in his hands. “I – we……. _we can’t_.”

“Do you want to?” He presses, because he needs to know, needs to have it confirmed. That this thing he’s feeling, it’s not just him.

Yuuri smiles softly. “Yuri, I had never thought of you……like that….before…but you’ve been so good to me these last few months, and you’ve let me see another side of you….and I – yes….I…I _want_ to.”

There’s a joyful twist in his heart at these words, and he finds his hand, threads his fingers through his. For a moment they just sit there, hands laced together, revelling in this new feeling.

But then Yuuri pulls away. “I’m so sorry, Yuri. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let this happen. I wanted to ignore it, I knew it was there, I should’ve backed away, I shouldn’t have –I shouldn’t have keep seeing you, even though I wanted to.”

“It’s not _your_ fault,” Yuri says. “I wanted – I _want_ to see you, I want –”

“I can’t, Yuri,” Yuuri says, standing, gathering his belongings quickly as he speaks. His voice is shaking but he perseveres. “I’m not going to take part in –as much as I - regardless of what I want, I’m not going to take part in destroying your relationship. Losing Victor was one of the hardest things in my life, and I couldn’t do that to you. We can’t do this. What you have is special. I’m going home to my children, and you should go home to Otabek.”

 _Otabek_.

At the mention of his name, guilt slams against him, hard and ugly. He almost recoils from the force of it.

Otabek. The person dearest to his heart, the man he had loved for over a decade.

The person he had just cheated on.

Yuuri watches him for a moment. “Will you be alright, to get home?”

“I’ll get a taxi,” Yuri says, his voice tight.

Yuuri nods and smiles sadly, before leaving. He walks out slowly, with a slight hunch, as if the world is weighing down against him.

Yuri orders another drink and stares at nothing.

Inside, the pieces of his heart fall apart.

-

They spend the next week fighting. Not over the kiss, because Yuri hasn’t told him about it, but about almost everything and anything else.

Yuri is ashamed and angry at himself, and his anger comes out in biting comments about Otabek forgetting to do the dishes, sarcastic remarks about Otabek’s tendency to spend money on largely useless musical equipment, little vicious snipes about certain friends of Otabek’s. Otabek can be patient, there’s a certain need to be, when it comes to Yuri, but by day three he’s had enough, and he responds in his own way, becoming more silent, withdrawn and dismissive the more Yuri tries to provoke him.

By the end of the week, they are barely speaking.

Yuuri is trying to put some distance between them too, and so Yuri is home alone on Friday night, curled up in front of the TV, watching an awful Russian soap. There’s some terribly dramatic love triangle, as there always is, on these soaps, and it makes Yuri feel even worse. He thinks about turning it off, but he can’t quite seem to find the energy.

Otabek gets home just after eleven. There’s a slight stumble in his step. He’s been drinking, he had been to see one of his friends DJ at a local bar. His face has a slight flush, and his black hair is tousled. He’s dressed in faded black skinny jeans and a worn leather jacket, and there’s a bright look in his eyes. He looks good. _Really good_.

He looks surprised to see Yuri at home, but less surprised by the look in his eyes.

His lips slowly curl up, and his eyes darken. “Hey,” He says, leaning over Yuri on the couch.

Yuri keeps his eyes directly on Otabek’s, his intention clear, as he slips his grumpy cat t-shirt up and off over his shoulders, before capturing Otabek's jaw to bring him in for a soft kiss. “Hey yourself,” He whispers, bringing their lips together again, teeth clashing now as they crush their mouths together. They haven’t had sex this past week, and it’s unusual for them to go so long without. He _needs_ him. Now.

He reaches up around Otabek’s shoulders to tug him closer, but Otabek hesitates and pulls back, looking over Yuri carefully, concern now mixed in with the lust in his eyes. “You didn’t go out tonight,” He observes quietly. “Is everything ok?”

“Everything is fine,” Yuri lies, as casually as possible, with a shrug. He leans close again, his mouth pressing wet kisses against the rough stubble on Otabek’s jaw. He smells of the cheap beer he and his friends insist on drinking, like second-hand cigarette smoke from the pub, and underneath all that –just like _him_ , warm and utterly intoxicating.  

He tries again, to tug him closer, but Otabek shifts slightly, escaping Yuri’s touch. His eyes are still too serious. “Are you ok, Yura?”

Yuri groans impatiently, changes tactics, shoving Otabek back, sliding onto his lap on the floor. He cups his face, and kisses him sweetly, desperately. He doesn’t want to talk. Right now, none of that other shit matters. All he wants in this very moment is Otabek. “I’m ok,” He assures him. “I’m good. My only problem is –” He stops to look over Otabek hungrily. “That I was planning on a quiet night and you came in looking like _this_.”

That gets him. Otabek bites his lip, breathes out slowly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Yuri says, slowly rocking his hips against Otabek. “I think my plans have changed.”

“What are your plans now?” Otabek asks, placing his hands on Yuri’s hips, grasping them tight in an almost painful grip.

Yuri looks at Otabek through lowered eyes. “That depends.”

“On what?”

Yuri leans in close, the curtain of his hair enveloping them, as he whispers his words, hot and needy, against Otabek’s skin. “On what Daddy wants to do to me.”

Otabek growls loudly, hand fisting in Yuri’s hair to tug him down, his mouth claiming his in a bruising kiss. “ _Fuck, Yura_. I want you so much,” Otabek hisses, eyes blown wide with want.

“I want you so much too, Beka,” Yuri responds shakily. “I _need_ you.”

Otabek stands with a strangled groan, and grabs Yuri’s hand, pulling him up from the floor. “Bedroom. Now.”

There’s a moment _then_ , when the guilt suddenly hits Yuri.

That he hasn’t told him yet. That he’s not sure whether he will tell him.

That he hasn’t stopped thinking about kissing Yuuri Katsuki.

But Otabek’s hand is in his. And Otabek is looking at him through half-lidded eyes, both want and love clear for him to see, and all Yuri wants right this moment is to be with him, and be loved by him, and love him in return.

He doesn’t want to think about the kiss right now, doesn’t want to feel the guilt.

He gets his wish.

The guilt is surprisingly easy to forget when he’s being pounded into the mattress by his boyfriend.

-

Yuri wakes tucked in the warmth of Otabek’s arms, with his soft familiar smell against him. It’s past ten but Otabek’s breathing is still steady and heavy. Neither of them were naturally morning people, and after retiring from skating, they both took the opportunity to sleep in when they had a chance.

Soon, Otabek will wake up, and press a gentle kiss to Yuri’s lips. Yuri might tease him, bat him away, telling him that there will be no more kisses until they’ve both brushed their teeth and shaved. Otabek might groan, and drag Yuri to the bathroom to do as required. Or he might ignore him, and kiss him even more deeply, until Yuri is kissing him back needy and desperate, and pushing his hips up to meet his, until they are both spent.

They might snuggle closely and talk about pointless things, laughing and teasing each other. Otabek might play Yuri a new mix, and Yuri might show Otabek silly cat videos off his phone. They might talk about something more serious, eyes intent and focused, in the comfort of each other’s arms.

They might decide to stay in bed till the afternoon. Or they might decide to get up and go for brunch, and end up fucking in the shower, till the water runs cold and their only warmth comes from each other.

It doesn’t matter _what_ they do, really. Yuri loves it all.

Otabek has been his best friend since he was fifteen, his boyfriend since he was twenty. He can’t imagine a life without him, doesn’t want to imagine a life without him.

Yuri loves Otabek. That is something he knows without a single doubt.

He loves spending time with him, loves being with him. He doesn’t want to lose this. He doesn’t want to lose _him_. He’s not unaware. He’d known, in an abstract way, in the background of his thoughts, what he was risking. But it only truly hits him there and then. That these feelings, and that one kiss, it could ruin _everything_.

He could _lose_ the love of his life.

Otabek stirs in his arms, gazes up at him sleepily, his eyes dark and warm. He looks so content. So happy.

Yuri smiles at him, leaning down for a kiss, and he decides, _this is it_.

Everything else, _it ends right now_.

-

He wants to tell him in person, so they meet up on Sunday night. Yuri –or, as the kids know him –‘Uncle Yurio’ –helps put the kids to bed, re-telling five year Marina her favourite story. The one about a skater who crashed and burned in his first grand prix series and almost quit skating, only to return with passion and force the next year, swiping the silver in an unexpected return to glory. Of course, he won’t forget to tell her about the skater who won gold, well, he just could never be beaten, and he was amazing and highly talented. Marina will laugh and poke him, and he’ll poke her gently too, and then sit quietly by her bed until she falls asleep.

It’s harder to tell the story since Victor left, because the story doesn’t make sense without him in it, without his love for Yuuri in it. Victor still sees the kids, of course. He’s a good father and they have some neatly set and largely fair shared parenting arrangement, all haggled over by expensive lawyers. But Yuri knows the kids have found it hard, that their world has changed immeasurably. And so he’s cautious with the story. He’d rather not tell it at all, now, but Marina insists. It’s her favourite, she says, because one day she wants to grow up and be brave just like her papa.

Yuuri is putting Tatyana, their eight year old to bed. She’s inquisitive and smart, with a flair for drama like Victor. She’s always full of questions, and Yuri has no doubt that she would be asking her papa non-stop questions now, complaining about her early bed time, insisting that she was an ‘adult’ now, and should be able to stay up later than her younger sister, who was most definitely still a child.

He smiles to himself at the thought. He’s never wanted kids himself, but there’s great joy in being an uncle.

When the kids are both asleep he and Yuuri head to the lounge room, and Yuuri pours each of them a glass of wine. Yuri hasn’t really thought this through, hasn’t really planned out properly what he was going to say. But he needed to say this, needed to end this –whatever this was –and forget it ever happened.

He takes a deep breath, and makes to speak, looking at Yuuri –and his words leave him. Yuuri looks tired, he has circles under his eyes, and his skin is pale. His hair is messed up, no doubt the result of exuberant hugs from the kids, and in this light, Yuri can see the streaks of grey in it that Yuuri no longer bothers to dye. He’s wearing a simple blue t-shirt, with old jeans. After retiring from skating, Yuuri had put on weight, and he was well rounded across his middle, chubby. Yuri was quite aware that Yuuri these days was not what you would see in magazines as the ‘ideal man’, but Yuri was also quite aware that those magazines were fucking stupid, because Yuuri Katsuki was absolutely stunning.

He had meant to tell him how he had realised how ill-fated this all was, how it was a terrible idea, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “ _Fuck_.”

Yuuri looks at him, brows drawn together. “Yurio?”

“Fuck, why do you have to be so damn gorgeous? I can’t fucking think.”

Yuuri blushes, increasing his beauty even further. “Yuri, I’m not – I’m ordinary. You –on the other hand….,” He looks straight at him. “You’re beautiful.”

“Fuck you. You’re the one that said this was a bad idea.”

“It is. It is. This isn’t anything. I’m just telling the truth.”

Yuri slumps back against the couch. “Liar.”

“It’s not a lie. You _are_ beautiful.”

“Not that part. Of course I’m beautiful. But stop flirting.”

“Sorry,” Yuuri sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “Sorry. There’s the rational part of me that knows exactly what the right thing to do in this situation but then….”

“Then I fucking see you and I can’t _think_ ,” Yuri growls. “Why is this so hard?”

“You…..what did you think about, over the weekend? What did you want to talk about?”

“How we have to end whatever this is, because I don’t want to lose –I don’t want to lose –I –” His voice tightens, and fuck, he can’t even say his name. It feels weird and wrong to speak his name here and now, as if everything they have could be tainted with this. Yuri blinks, and to his horror, there are tears in his eyes. He rubs at them with the back of his hand, looking away from Yuuri.

Yuuri comes close, and gently places his hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “Yurio, you won’t lose him. He loves you, so much. And we’ll end this –we _can_ end this, we just have to……”

Yuri takes a deep breath, and another, and another, until he’s calm enough to speak without his voice shaking too badly. “Don’t make it sound so fucking easy.”

“It’s not. It won’t be easy. But it’s the right thing to do and –”

“If you keep saying stupid rational shit like that, I’m going to shut you up with a kiss.”

Yuuri freezes, and then shifts very deliberately away from Yuri. “Don’t do that,” He warns, his voice suddenly serious.

Yuri just looks at him.

“If you kiss me now –I don’t think –last time it took all the self-control I had to turn you away,” Yuuri says, his voice shaky. “I don’t think I could turn you away again.”

Yuri’s whole world stops for a moment. He can see two paths, diverging out from this very moment, two paths, each filled with a different kind of joy, a different kind of pain.

He stands up, and tears trailing down his face, his vision blurry, he leaves.

-

When he gets home Otabek is splayed out on the couch, asleep, the TV still blaring, their fat tabby cat nestled across his belly, their ragdoll against one of his arms, and their little ginger butterball atop his feet. The sight gives him a warm ache in his heart.

_His family._

He switches off the TV, brings a blanket from their bedroom, and slowly, quietly, tucks himself next to them, pressing his tear stained face against the crook of Otabek’s shoulder.

_He’s home._

-

On Wednesday night Otabek has a gig DJ’ing for a small gay club in the centre of St. Petersburg. It’s mid-week and Yuri has work early the next day, but fuck it, he thinks. He’s been so in his head lately, so confused about everything, and his heart seems to physically ache sometimes, from the pain of it. He’s somehow become the tragic character in his own version of a terrible late night TV love triangle. It’s fucking irritating, and he’s sick of himself. He needs to get out.

Also, he’s in the mood to surprise his boyfriend.

He dresses up –tight faux leather leggings, a long loose leopard print singlet top, his hair down, long and flowing, the blackest black eyeliner, bold and striking, and sticky pink lip gloss. One of Otabek’s leather jackets completes the whole look. He almost gets himself off beforehand, but resists, already turned on by the thought of what Otabek will do to him tonight.

Yuri waits outside the club, slouching in the side alley, ignoring  pointed looks from several men, until it’s Otabek’s time on stage, until he can hear the familiar style of music radiating out.  He enters by the back way, and makes his way to the DJ booth stealthily. Otabek is so intent in mixing, doesn’t even look up when he enters the booth.

Yuri creeps up slowly until he’s right behind him, and then he presses his body against his back, his arms wrapping around him in a loose hug. Otabek startles, pushing him away, as he turns.

Then he sees that it’s Yuri, and his lips turn up in a slow smile as his eyes rove over his body appreciatively.  He pulls his headphones down across his neck.

“It’s _you_.”

Yuri raises an eyebrow. “Who else? If some other skank tried to push up on you, I’d fucking kill them.”

The words leave his mouth before he’s even thought them through. It’s just their usual banter, but suddenly he feels like a hypocrite. He swallows the thought down, instead focuses on the way Otabek is still tracing the shape of his legs in the tight leggings, his eyes wide and hungry.

“You know you’re the only skank for me,” Otabek replies, deadpan.

“Good,” He says, and he’s glad it’s too loud for Otabek to notice the shakiness in his voice. Fuck. He didn’t come here to think about this. That was the opposite of what he wanted. He pushes up close again, and kisses Otabek soundly.

“What are you doing here?” Otabek asks. “Aside from the obvious.”

“What, I can’t surprise Daddy just because I felt like it?”

Otabek smirks. “Huh, just the obvious then.”

“Maybe,” Yuri says, leaning in to kiss him again. “And maybe I missed you a bit too.”

“Yeah?”

Yuri is horrified by the hint of surprise in Otabek’s voice. Had he been _that_ preoccupied lately? So much so that Otabek thought he might _not_ miss him? He tilts his head down, kisses him yet again, hoping that all of his love shines through. “Of course.”

“I’m glad you came,” Otabek says, pressing his forehead against Yuri’s. “I’ve missed you too.”

Yuri stays silent against him, feeling the guilt and shame threaten to overwhelm him. He takes a deep breath, and puts it aside. Grabbing Otabek’s hands, he slides them down his body, positioning Otabek so that he is cupping Yuri’s arse. Otabek lets him, and then squeezes, with a light growl. “I want to,” He admits. “But I have to work. You’re going to have to wait.”

Yuri doesn’t pull away, instead sliding closer, giving him a sloppy kiss. “But look at me,” He says, only stepping back to give Otabek a good look again. Yuri cocks his head, smirks. “How can you resist, Beka? I dressed up all for you.” He reaches up,  trails his hand through his long blonde hair. Otabek’s eyes follow his movements. “I almost had to get myself off, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d do to me when you saw me like this.”

Otabek bites his lip as he looks over him again, eyes alight with pure lust. But he simply says, “You’ll still look just as good when I finish my set. Maybe better.”

“You think so?”

Otabek reaches over and gently, with his thumbs, he smudges the eyeliner on both of Yuri’s eyes. Yuri stays very still under his touch, even as it becomes harder to breath. “You know I like you messy,” Otabek whispers, voice low, and Yuri moans. Otabek smiles at the effect he has on Yuri. “Be a good boy for me. Go have a drink, and dance. Get sweaty for me. I’ll come and get you when I’m done.”

Otabek slips on his headphones again, and turns, his world becoming just the music once more.

Yuri would prefer not to wait, but he does as he says, and heads downstairs, buying himself a beer and settling in on one of the couches. Later, buoyed by a few more beers, he dances by himself in the middle of the crowded dance floor, heedless and unashamed about what anyone else thinks of a lone dancer. Well aware that Otabek is probably watching, that the only one he’s dancing for is him.

Yuri doesn’t do drugs, he’s had too much ingrained in him as an athlete for that, but being on the dance floor, his body moving, the music surrounding him, the floor vibrating, nothing else to think about, he feels _high_ on this, feels free and unencumbered. The addition of this being Otabek’s set, that he’s dancing to a sound his love has created, to music that means something to him, that lifts him higher even, and he’s soaring.

Right now, he’s not a cheater, he’s not confused, he’s not guilty and he’s not ashamed. He’s just a mildly drunk thirty year old, dancing freely in a gay club to the amazing music set his boyfriend has mixed. There couldn’t be a more perfect feeling.

So when Otabek finishes his set, and finds him on the dance floor, the grin he gives him is without reservation, and the kiss he gives him is without hesitation.

-

They stumble out of the club just before midnight. Yuri is buzzed, happy, content. They had spent the night teasing each other, laughing, talking, dancing. Then Otabek had got down on his knees and blown Yuri in the upstairs toilet cubicle, heedless of the filth. Yuri had returned the favour with a messy, sloppy hand job, both of them too dazed, too far gone to care when Otabek had come all over Yuri’s leggings.

He can’t remember the last time he had so much fun, felt so carefree.

He needs a shower, and he’s exhausted too, but in a good way.

Yuri’s already looking for a taxi when he hears Otabek behind him.

“Yura,” Otabek says, and he turns. Otabek is standing with his hands tucked into his jacket, looking oddly apprehensive. “Do you want to go home?”

“What else? It’s late and we’re filthy.”

“We should go home.”

“But?”

“Nothing. We should go home.”

Yuri glares at him. “Don’t be a shit. What were you gonna say?”

Otabek looks down, almost shyly. “I just thought….tonight was _nice._ I’m really glad you came and….I thought we could….do you want to go to the old church?”

Yuri blinks. They haven’t been there for –it’s been over a year, at least. He can’t even remember exactly when they last went.

The official name of the church was, or had been, once, the Church of the Archangel Gabriel. It was a small abandoned church. They had discovered it on Otabek’s first visit to see Yuri, when Yuri had been only sixteen, and bursting with excitement to spend time with his cool new best friend. Yuri had been trying to impress Otabek with a tour of the city, but had gotten hopelessly lost. It wasn’t like he really got out and about much, but he hadn’t wanted Otabek (Otabek with his mischievous friends who were so much fucking cooler than him, _why did he even want to hang out all the time with him_ ) to know that. So when they had stumbled across the abandoned church, Yuri pretended that this was what he had wanted to show him all along, and he had made up some bullshit historical story to go along with it. Otabek hadn’t bought a word of it, but he hadn’t said anything at the time, pretending to nod along in interest. They had ended up spending the afternoon there, legs swinging off the top balcony, staring out across the overgrown garden, smiling as they talked.

It became a thing of theirs, every time Otabek visited, and then even when he had moved here. To climb their way up the dilapidated steps, avoiding the cracks in the cement, to lean carefully against the shaky railing, talking and laughing. As the years went on, there was shy hand holding, hesitant kisses, and then, even later, the easy familiar comfort of leaning against each other, as they contently watched the world go by.

Once the church had been surrounded by similarly abandoned buildings, a whole street falling apart together. In recent years, those buildings had been torn down, replaced with shiny high rises, and glossy corporate offices. Yuri wonders if the church is still even there.

“It’s not that far from here,” Otabek says softly.

When Yuri doesn’t respond, he says, “It’s ok, it was simply an idea. It’s late Yura, we can go home.”

“Is it even still there?”

“Yes,” Otabek says, certain.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been there, sometimes. It’s still there.”

This makes Yuri irrationally angry. It was _their_ place, what the hell had Otabek been doing, going there alone? “When? You never said shit.”

He shrugs, looks away. “Just sometimes.”

“You should’ve taken me.” He’s aware he sounds petulant, but he doesn’t care.

“I just needed somewhere to think.”

“What the fuck kind of shit is that. So you can’t think when I’m there?”

Otabek glances at him. “No, not really. Not about -” He stops for a moment, and then frowns. “Yura, I don’t want to argue tonight.  Tonight felt like…..it just felt like _before_ , and I wanted to make that feeling last longer, and just _be_ with you. But if this is going to cause an argument, then let’s go home, and leave me this memory of tonight as it is.”

Yuri’s heart is pounding, and he carefully shies away from giving meaning to Otabek’s words. He, too, wants to retain the memory of tonight, to keep it safe and protected, to pretend like nothing had changed, like nothing would ever change between them. So instead he snorts, leans over, takes Otabek’s hand. “Fucking dramatic dork. Let’s do it.”

Otabek smiles.

-

It really isn’t the most rational idea. It’s near pitch black, and there’s plenty of debris around the place. They both switch on their phone lights, and make their way slowly up the stairs. There are noises around them, and both of them almost trip, several times. They might die here, Yuri thinks recklessly, and even though he doesn’t believe in ghosts, the wind is chilly around them, and he wonders if maybe they do exist after all. But he just clasps Otabek’s hand harder, and they get there eventually.

They shove away some of the gathered twigs and leaves on the balcony, and settle themselves in their corner, wrapped in each other’s arms. It’s not like all the times they’ve gone there before, when they would laugh and talk and tease, sometimes bringing food to share, or music to listen to together, the thread of Yuri's red earphones connecting them. There’s something different about going in the middle of the night, when everything between them is in flux, but neither of them wants it to be. Yuri’s not so sure this is was a good idea, after all. Now that they are here, it doesn’t feel like a continuation of their carefree night. It’s feels heavy, loaded. He doesn’t want to taint his years of memories here with the confusion of now. Maybe Otabek is thinking the same thing, because he’s quiet too.

For a long time, they just sit there silently. It’s summer. It’s not warm, but their jackets provide them with sufficient protection from the late night chill. Yuri is dozing against Otabek’s shoulder when he hears Otabek say something.

“Huh?” He grumbles, reluctantly lifting his head from where he had been warm and rested.

“Nothing, Yura.” Otabek is gently running his hands through Yuri’s hair. “Sorry, Yura, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What was it?”

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“So you talk to yourself now? Huh?”

Otabek sighs, and in the dark his face is shadowed, but he still looks away, his gaze turned outwards. “I was just….I was just saying that….that I don’t want to lose you.”

Yuri blinks, tries to speak, but can’t. He’s silent a moment too long.

“It was nothing,” Otabek says, voice flat. “You should go back to sleep.”

The assurances are stuck on his tongue. ‘ _You haven’t’_ is technically true, but not entirely so. _‘You won’t’_ is something Yuri’s not sure he can promise.

So he settles for something that he’s sure of, without a doubt.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” He says softly.

And maybe that’s enough, because Otabek’s hold on him tightens as he rests his head against his shoulders, and closes his eyes once more.

-

The night gives him further resolve. He must forget this thing between him and Yuuri. _He must_.

He focuses on work, and focuses on being present when he’s at home. Which is almost every night now, given that he no longer sees Yuuri. Otabek very carefully doesn't say anything about this change, but somehow, he seems to be at home more often in the evenings, too. It’s odd, Yuri hadn’t realised that they had been spending so much time apart over the last few months. It had happened so slowly, so gradually.  Yuri overhears Otabek once, talking to one of his music scene friends on the phone, the friend complaining loudly that Otabek never comes out anymore. Otabek politely but firmly turns down the invite.  When Yuri asks him about it, and half-heartedly encourages him to go, Otabek just looks at him intently. “There are things that I enjoy, and music is one of them. But there are things that I value more, and I know what my priorities are. I don’t need to go.”

Yuri thinks to argue that they could go out together, but he doesn’t. There’s something about this time. He doesn’t want anyone else intruding. It’s just him and Otabek and that’s how it should be. So he simply wraps his arms around him, and they hold each other, for a long time.

It’s the closest they get to talking about it.

It’s a nice time, peaceful, in a way. They cook for each other, go for evening jogs together. They go to Otabek’s favourite Kazakhstani restaurant and eat until Yuri feels like his stomach will burst. They play silly games with their cats. They have lazy nights in on the couch, arms entangled around each other. They have slow gentle sex, moving tenderly against each other, or they have sex hard and rough, mouths bruised and bodies sore, holding each other lovingly when they’re done. It’s a time of healing and rebuilding.

Whenever Yuri has thoughts of Yuuri, he turns them aside. He doesn’t want those thoughts in his life. He _can_ forget him. He _will_ forget him. 

And he thinks he can, really. It’s been over 4 weeks. He hasn’t seen him, hasn’t spoken to him once. 

Then he’s at work on a Monday morning, running through the choreography for one of the junior skaters when it hits him. It hits him like a physical blow, and he feels it in his stomach, in his chest. He feels it everywhere. 

_He misses him._

He misses him with the very whole of his being, like he’s a part of him that he’s cut off and can’t live without.

The thoughts running through his head are so fucking cliché, that he’s disgusted with himself. He grabs the folders on his office desk and flings them to the floor, he kicks the table legs, he pushes an ugly pot plant off the desk, and watching it shatter gives him a fleeting sense of satisfaction.

Because it’s all so fucking cliché but so fucking true.

He misses hearing his warm voice over the phone, misses him laughing fondly when Yuri snaps at him, misses knowing the little miniature of his life –how work went, what the kids did, what he ate for dinner.

He misses him with an intensity that he can barely comprehend.

He’s sitting on the floor, slouched against the table, his pants covered in dirt, head in his arms, when he realises it. When he realises that it’s probably time to stop lying to himself.

_He is in love with Yuuri Katsuki._

He had known, that what he wanted was more than a simple kiss, more than a night under the covers with him. He had known, that the connection they had was something meaningful. That they were the closest of friends, but that there was something more there. And all of this, he and Yuuri had pretty much acknowledged.

But being _in love_ with Yuuri Katsuki?

He tries the words out in his head. _He is in love with Yuuri Katsuki. He, Yuri Plisetsky, is in love with Yuuri Katsuki. Yuri Plisetsky is in love with Yuuri Katsuki._

He hates the words, but they feel oddly right. There’s truth in them.

Yuri had shied away from this thought for so long, because he was in love with Otabek, and  _only_ Otabek. When he was young, he had been on a few dates, and even had a boyfriend for a few months. But he had never loved any of them. Otabek was the _only_ one he had ever been in love with, _the only one he ever wanted to love_.

But now…..

_He was in love with Yuuri Katsuki, too._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha i thought this was gonna be relatively simple to write? HA. i actually had the idea for this story one night when i was getting ready to go gay clubbing, and by the time i was dressed (admittedly i am slow af so it was probably like 2 hours later) i had it all in my head, how this story would begin, what would happen, how it would end. i went out thinking oh i'll type this out in the next few days and it'll all be done, just a one shot, easy. NOPE. NOPE. DEFINITELY NOT. 
> 
> anyway, it got a lot longer than i had planned for, and certain parts needed to be changed because the characters didn't quite feel the way i had initially imagined they might, and insisted on doing things their own way so yeeeeah it took me ages to get chapter 2 done but here we are! 
> 
> again, not beta'd, so let me know of any typos. 
> 
> tw: there are a few lines of internalised homophobia in here + angst, lots of angst but you knew that already :-)

The realisation thrums through him, fast and intoxicating, and it’s the _only_ thing he can think about. The words _I am in love with Yuuri Katsuki_ spin in his mind, and he finds himself reaching for his phone, the number dialled and ringing before he has a chance to second guess himself.

It’s been over a month. Maybe he won’t pick up. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear from him anymore.

Yuuri picks up on the third ring.

“Yurio!” Yuuri greets him happily. “How are you?”

His tone is jarring. Here is Yuri, on the edge of a major realisation, the cusp of a major breakdown, and Yuuri greets him as if he were anybody, as if this were any other regular afternoon call. As if they haven’t been avoiding each other for over a month, as if there wasn’t this thing between them, as if they had never kissed. It feels like he’s making a mockery of his feelings, even though he hasn’t said anything yet.

Anything he had planned to say goes out the window, though he hadn’t really even had a plan.  But his mood shifts, and he snaps, “What the hell are you so happy about?”

“I’m happy to hear from you.”

Yuri snorts. “Not like you bothered to contact me.”

“I thought you wanted space?”

“I never said that.” Well, he _had_ wanted space, but he had never _said_ that. He’d just implied it, by running off after fucking crying all over him. Pathetic.

“Well, it seemed that way,” Yuuri says gently. “How are things, now?”

“Shit.”

Yuuri is silent for a moment, and Yuri can hear him shuffling, and the noises around him quieten down. “Did anything happen with Otabek?”

“No.” Yuri kicks his foot against the bench. “Something happened with you.”

“You told him?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Yuuri sounds oddly disappointed, and it’s so unexpected. Yuri’s heart races. Why would he be disappointed that he hadn’t told him? Yuuri has always tried to be so damn rational about this, so sensible. It doesn’t make sense. Unless. Did he _want_ him to tell him?

“ _You want me to tell him_ ,” He realises, incredulous.

“No! Yuri, no – I…. _no_.”

There’s a few moments of silence, and Yuri can’t see him but he imagines it. Yuuri taking off his glasses, placing them absentmindedly on the nearest surface, rubbing his forehead. He’s flustered, and he would be a little flushed, his cheeks rosy. He wishes he was there.

“There’s an incredibly selfish part of me that wants that. But mostly, I know how painful break ups are and you two are a beautiful couple and Otabek is a close friend too, even if –”

“Spare me. Why do you want me to tell him?”

“I don’t think you should, I think we should forget about –”

“Seriously Yuuri, spare me the bullshit! _Tell me why you want me to tell him_.”

“Yuri, it’s not – this isn’t bullshit, I do really think that –”

“Fine! Ok! It’s not bullshit. We all live in la la land and this fucking stupid thing we’re in now is going to end in rainbows and sunshine. Fine, whatever. Tell me why -that incredibly selfish part of you - _why do you want me to tell him?_ ”

“Yuri….”

“Tell me.”

“If I tell you, don’t hate me,” Yuuri pleads, voice trembling slightly.

“I couldn’t hate you, ever,” Yuri admits, and his voice is softer than he would like as he says that.

“This is going to be….very honest,” Yuuri warns.

“ _Tell me_.”

Yuuri sighs. “The incredibly selfish part of me wishes you would tell him, so…..so that he would leave you. So you would be….free. So that we could be together, seriously,” Yuuri says, his voice barely audible. “See, it’s selfish.”

“You want to _be_ with me?” Yuri asks, shock evident in his voice. “Like, in a _relationship_ with me?”

“It’s selfish but…..it’s selfish but I do, Yuri.”

Yuri makes a strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a snort. “I thought you just wanted to kiss me, and maybe fuck me. And I know, ok I know it wasn’t _just_ that, that there was… _more_ …but I didn’t think…..I didn’t think you wanted a _relationship_ …..I mean, you have your life, and the _kids_ , and…. I just never thought you would….”

“Well, all of the above, really,” Yuuri says, with a shaky little laugh. “Yuri, how could you not know? I _care_ about you. These last few weeks, not seeing you, not speaking to you –it’s been _so_ hard. I’ve missed you so much. You’re….you’ve been in my life for so long, and you just _fit_ here. You push me to be better, you believe in me, you’re there for me. Each and every point I’ve looked at in my past, when I’ve needed you, you’ve been there. Maybe you’ve been yelling at me, and swearing at me to get my act together, but you’ve been there, willing to wait with me, until I do.  And Marina and Tatyana….they already love you. You’re already family to them. And yes, it would be an adjustment for them, but they would accept it in time. They both _adore_ you, so much.” Yuuri pauses for a moment, takes a breath. “It’s selfish of me, because you already have a home, Yuri, but I can’t help but think how well you would fit into mine.”

“I just didn’t think that you felt the same,” Yuri blurts out unthinkingly, his heart bursting with joy at Yuuri’s revelation.

There’s a moment of complete silence.

“The same?”

He can’t speak.  

“Yuri, are you saying…..”

He can’t speak.

“Yuri, are you..…do you….”

_He just can’t speak._

“Yuri? I……”

“I don’t fucking know, ok? Don’t fucking ask me, because _I don’t fucking know_.”

“Maybe…maybe…..could I see you? We could talk in person. That might be better,” Yuuri says softly.

“That’s a horrible fucking idea.”

Yuuri hums. “This is difficult to discuss over the phone. And I miss you.”

“You don’t remember what happened last time we saw each other? Or the time before?”

“I……I know…..it could be risky, but what if I promise - not to kiss you? We’ll just talk.”

“I don’t want you to promise not to kiss me,” Yuri says, suddenly petulant. “I _want_ you to kiss me.”

Yuuri breathes out slowly. “I want –I want to kiss you again too. But we’ll have to –”

“Do you want more, too? Because I want more.” He feels his control slipping, feels like he’s tripping and he hasn’t found the ground, thinks maybe after all this that he wants to fall, and he doesn’t care that it’ll hurt.

“ _Yuri._ ”

“I want _so much_ with you,” He whispers harshly.

Yuuri is quiet, but Yuri can hear his ragged breathing. “ _You_ –Yuri, we should talk first, and sort this out before….before anything.”

“Where are you?”

“Now?”

“Obviously. Where are you?”

“I’m at work….Yuri, you can’t –you can’t come here.”

“I know that, I’m not an idiot. Can you leave early?”

“I….I have a report that due at the end of the week….but….I could leave early, I guess. What are you thinking of, Yuri?”

“Let’s meet at your place, in an hour.”

“Are you able to leave work early?”

“Huh! Why else would I suggest it? Of course I can,” He says. And then he admits, “I might’ve had a small incident just now….it’s probably better for me to leave.”

“An incident?” Yuuri asks, immediately alarmed. “What kind of incident? Did you get in a fight with someone? Are they hurt? Are you hurt?”

“With a pot plant,” Yuri says, with a snort. “Don’t worry, no one is hurt. Aside from the plant, but it was an ugly fucker I never wanted in my office anyway, so it deserved it. There’s no point me staying at work right now though, I’m not going to get anything done. And I’m far ahead on all my work, anyway.”

“Ah…ok, then.  Are you ok though, Yuri?”

“What the fuck to do you think?” Yuri snaps, but there’s no vitriol in it. He takes a deep breath. He was really going to do this. And he needed to do it quickly, before all his senses came back into action, came back to stop him from doing what he knew was unwise and unfair. What he knew was unforgivable. His voice is shaky as he speaks. “So, can we meet at your place in an hour?”

There’s a long pause.  A weary sigh.

And then.

“I’ll see you there, Yuri.”

-

Yuuri answers the door quickly, as if he’s been watching for him. Which he probably was, Yuri thinks, as he looks him over. He hasn’t seen him for so long that the sight of him makes him dizzy, weak on his feet. Yuuri is still dressed in his work clothes, black slacks, a pale blue shirt and a navy blazer. He looks a little apprehensive, a little flustered, and completely and utterly stunning.

“Yuri,” Yuuri greets him, his voice strained, but there’s warmth there still. He draws the door open, and Yuri kicks off his shoes, and stands in the hallway, still just soaking in the sight of him. He’s so gorgeous, and Yuri can feel the rationality starting to slip further, can feel his thoughts turning hazy. “I put on the water for tea. Let’s go to the lounge room.”

“Are the kids home?” Yuri manages to ask, managing to hold onto rationality for that, at least.

Yuuri shakes his head. “They’re still at school.”

He’s opening his mouth to say something else, when Yuri cuts him off. “Fuck, you’re stunning,” He states, voice alight with wonder, and then he’s on him, his hands laced around his shoulders, pulling him close, his body pressed tight against his, noses nuzzling against each other. Their first kiss here is something like their first kiss in the bar, a little unsure, a little hesitant, brief and sweet. Yuuri’s eyes are wide, uncertain, as he looks at Yuri with gentle surprise on his face. Yuri can see the conflict in his eyes, his want warring with his values. Yuri feels he should feel something of the same right now too, but his heart is pounding, and he’s holding onto this beautiful man he is in love with, and he’s tired of trying to do the right thing, because nothing he can do is right. He wants in, he wants to fall into this headlong right now, without a care in the world. “Kiss me,” Yuri pleads softly. “Kiss me.”

Yuuri looks at him for a long moment, and then he cups Yuri’s face gently, and leans in. This time, there’s nothing unsure or hesitant about it. He kisses him fully, passionately, hungrily. His lips, soft and lush, feel wonderful against Yuri’s. _This_ is what he wanted. _This_ is how he wanted to be kissed by him.

Their kisses become longer, more needy, their tongues moving desperately against each other. Yuri feels shaky on his feet and stops, takes a breath, only long enough for the amount of time it takes for him to pull them both to the couch, with Yuuri sliding on top of him. They continue kissing, for how long Yuri doesn’t know anymore. Every part of him is mired in this, and every sensation he can feel is _Yuuri_. His soft breath against his lips, the wet warm feel of his mouth, the smell of his faint cologne, the press of his body heavy down against his. This is something he had never believed he could have. Not now, and not years ago, when he had been just a stupid teenage boy, scrawling their initials together, driven mad merely by the thought of this very man even just holding his hand. And here they are.

When he pulls away, just for a moment, just to gaze upon him, he is surprised. Yuuri looks different. His eyes are wide and sparkle with pure desire. Yuri’s only ever seen him look like that on the ice, when he was seducing the crowds with his routines, or with Victor, when he was looking at his husband like he wanted to devour him. In the last few months, Yuri had seen Yuuri look at him with want, with yearning, but it was always hidden in the depths of his eyes, never so bold, so open, _so ravenous_.

“You’ve never looked at me like this before,” Yuri whispers, breath ragged. It does something to him, _this look_. Yuuri is so sweet, so kind. Yuri knows him better than almost anyone else. He knows he has a steely determination at his core, a strength that keeps him going despite the odds. He knows all that. But, _this_. When Yuuri looks at him like _this_ , he wants it all. He wants to be laid bare, to have Yuuri take him, all of him. To come undone, to lose himself in every feeling he could possibly give him.

Victor left it all once, for his very look.  Yuri thinks maybe he could do the same.

Yuuri places a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “I wanted to,” He admits. “I wanted all of you. But I didn’t feel it was my place.”

It’s not his place really, even now, but Yuri turns aside from that thought, in favour of drawing Yuuri’s swollen, pink lips back to his. Their kisses become deeper, more insistent, and Yuri runs his hand down, until he touches him, feels his hardness, pressing against the confines of his work trousers. Yuuri moans at the touch and presses closer for a moment, before he suddenly and abruptly breaks contact, leaving cold air and empty spaces in the places between them.

“We can’t, Yuri,” Yuuri gasps, as he wipes his wet lips against the back of his palm. “We can’t go any - we shouldn’t even have –this isn’t…...” He trails off, still panting.

Yuri ignores him, and moves close again, places a hand in his hair, and gently pulls him close. They’ve already gone beyond what they should have, it’s too late, and he can’t see why they should stop now. He wants this. _He wants him_. He kisses him, again, and Yuuri lets him, until their kisses feel like drowning, until Yuri’s hand is sliding up Yuuri’s thigh again, bold and insistent. But then suddenly Yuuri draws back again, and this time he stands abruptly, almost _running_ to the window, even more space between them. Yuuri stares out the window purposefully, avoiding his gaze.

“Yuri, we need to stop.”

Yuri slumps in the couch. Yuuri is determined now, certain. He could push, and he wants to push, but he has to let it go. There’s nothing to say that this will be it, that there won’t be a tomorrow for them. Nothing but – and again, he turns his thoughts aside from that. “Fine,” He snaps eventually. “But would you at least get over here so we can fucking talk about this?”

Yuuri continues to stare out the window, and still won’t look at him. He shakes his head. “I don’t think either of us are in any state to talk. I can barely even look at you, I just want……”

The longing in his voice is so telling, Yuri just wants to slide up behind him, but he resists, plants his feet hard on the floor, stops himself from moving to him. “So just come here,” He pleads, voice husky. “We _can_ …I want you. I want this.”

Yuuri shakes his head again, still not looking at him. “We need to talk….somewhere that is not _here_. Because I just want…..god Yuri, I just want to take you to bed right now and -”

Yuri lets out a low moan at those words, and then kicks the couch in frustration. “ _Fuck_.”

Yuuri takes a few, slow deep breathes, his hands pressed tight against the windowsill. It’s some time before he turns around and looks at Yuri. When he does, _that_ look is gone, and he looks at Yuri with fondness, and a small, weary smile. “What a mess we’ve made of this,” He says softly. He makes his way back to the couch and gently takes Yuri’s hand, interlinking their fingers. “I really am sorry for –”

“Can you stop fucking apologising? This isn’t _your_ fault.”

Yuuri squeezes his hand. “I guess you’re right, it’s both of us. But you have more to lose, and for that, I am sorry.”

Yuri groans. “Huh, whatever. So, are we gonna talk about this, then?”

“Not now. I don’t think either of us would be able to talk about this with the care it deserves, right now.” Yuuri places a gentle kiss on Yuri’s cheek. “And I have to go pick up the kids in about fifteen minutes, so it’s not the best time.”

Yuri starts, and looks up at the clock. It’s almost two. Later than he had imagined. He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to go. But he has to.

“And Yurio….regardless of where this…..where we go with this….Marina and Tatyana miss you. They’re used to seeing you every week, at least, if not more, and it’s odd for them. I told them you had a lot to do at work these days, and that you missed them too, but……whatever happens with us, even if you can’t see me, you should see them. Pick them up and take them out sometimes.”

Yuri feels a new rush of guilt, for yet another thing he was fucking up. He misses the kids, he does, and it’s true, he should see them.

And with that rush, that opening, comes another guilt, the one he’s been trying to push away the whole time.

_Otabek._

He pushes back at the guilt. Not now, not now. But the guilt pushes back this time, heavy, sickening and strong, and he knows he’s about to break.

“It’s ok, Yurio, they’ll be fine. But they do miss you. So, sometime –”

“Yeah, I will. We’ll work something out. But it’s not going to be –it’s not going to be _without_ you –we’ll -” He swallows, tries to find the words. “We’ll work something out. And we _are_ going to see each other soon,” He says, and tries to make his voice certain, he really does. He doesn’t succeed.

Yuuri sees far too much. He gives him a kind, sad smile. “I hope so. You have a lot to think about.”

When they get to the door Yuuri gives him a kiss. Just one kiss, a brief, sweet, unsure thing.  “Just….whatever happens, look after yourself, Yuri, and call me, if you need, ok?”

He’s not sure he can speak now, without crying, so he just gives him a shaky nod.

The tears start falling as soon as he leaves.

-

He’s barely down the end of the street when the guilt forces its way out, pushing past all the barriers he’s tried to put in place, crushing everything and anything in its path.

It reminds him, _Otabek_.

Otabek. The person dearest to his heart, the man he had loved for over a decade.

The person he had just cheated on.

 _Again_.

And this time it hadn’t just been a fleeting kiss, a brief lapse.

There had been kisses, and passion, but even more than that, there had been a confession, of sorts, and a shared dream about a future together.

He can’t go back home as if nothing had happened, can’t lie beside Otabek with Yuuri in his mind. He can’t keep doing this, this back and forth with his feelings.  It’s hurting them all, and it’s tearing him apart. He needs to decide, needs to _choose_.

He knows now, that he could have a future with Yuuri. And he can see it, he really can. It’s so close, within his reach, if he wanted, he could have Yuuri, share in his life, spend every day loving him.  

And he _knows_ part of him would have no regrets. Would consider the pain a fair trade for the joy that would lie ahead. He’s always been ambitious enough to know that sometimes sacrifices have to be made, that sometimes what hurts in the short term can be better in the long. And he’s never shied away from making sacrifices in order to reach his goals.

He knows _this_ \- what he has with Yuuri - this is real, and this is love, and he wants a life with him, he does but…..

The other part of him?

The other part of him would never forgive himself.

Because.

Otabek.

 _Otabek_.

He remembers lying in his arms the night before, as Otabek pressed sweet soft kisses down the curve of his back. He remembers waking up with him snoring gently, a heavy arm slung over him, the scent of him, of them, all he could breathe in.

He remembers the last month, the care they had been taking with each other, the gentle ways in which they had showed each other their love. He remembers the quiet forgiveness Otabek had shown him, not a word of his obvious but unmentioned feelings towards Yuuri spoken of, no action taken against him for his transgressions.

And he imagines.

He imagines a world without Otabek. Without his quiet laughter, without his warm arms, without his gentle but unwavering belief in Yuri and all that he could be. Without his _heart_.

His heart clenches in agony at the thought of a future without Otabek.

He doesn’t believe in fate or soulmates or any of that sappy shit.

But –but if there were such a thing, if there _were_ , he could see the threads of their bond everywhere, a million tiny little threads, joining them, a line from his heart to his.

From that moment Otabek had seen him across the hall, with his soldier eyes, to all the pieces of their lives, their friendship, two surly, mostly anti-social teenagers finding something in each other they could open up to, two young men, falling in love, building something together bigger than the both of them, a life together, a family, the two of them, and their cats. And he wants to be there for the rest too. Wants to be there to watch the tiny sprinkles of grey in Otabek’s black hair become something more, to see the little frown lines deepen. He wants to soothe him when his muscles ache, wants him to do the same. He wants the nights they have to stretch out endlessly, for there to never be a time when he doesn’t have Otabek by his side, and _on his side_. He doesn’t want those threads between them to disappear, he wants those threads to grow, to strengthen, as they continue to grow together, as they grow old, _together_.

He wants _that_. He wants what they have, _forever_.

He wants a life with Yuuri, he aches for it. Being without him would tear his heart.

And he would throw away _almost_ everything to have a life with Yuuri.

 _Almost_.

But not quite.

Because he could not give up a life with Otabek for it.

He _would not_ give up a life with Otabek for it.

-

He’s fucked up, oh he’s fucked up so bad.

His heart is broken. Would’ve been broken, either way.

Choosing Otabek means losing Yuuri and he’s going to miss Yuuri every single day, and there’ll always be some part of him that feels incomplete, lost, broken, without him.

And he might lose Otabek anyway, if he finds out what he’s done. He might lose the life they have together, the future he wants together, and _him_ , his heart, he might lose it _all_.

He can’t go back to work in this state, and he’s not ready to go home, to sit alone in the apartment he shares with Otabek, a reminder of all the ways in which he’s fucked up.

He’s crying, just managing to use some small remaining sense of pride to stop himself from outright sobbing, from collapsing on the footpath, pounding his fists against the gravel and howling at the universe for giving him such an agonising decision, for making him break his own heart.

He’s not sure he’s fully there, really. He’s walking and his feet move him forward, even though his legs shake. He can see things –people walking by, giving him odd looks, cars zooming past, but he can barely register any of it. He’s in pain, he’s in anguish and he’s numb, all at the same time. He wonders if he felt like this when his grandfather died, but he can’t remember.

He doesn’t think about where he’s going. He just walks, let’s his feet take him where they will.

And they do. He walks and walks and walks.

The walk there is over an hour long, and yet, it only really hits him when he’s turning the corner, onto the street, exactly where he’s going.

There’s a rush of relief at the thought.

The old church.

He’ll be safe there. He’ll be grounded there, surrounded by the memories of their love. There, he will find the strength to move forward, to work this out, to somehow make this all work out in the end.

It will be ok. This will all work out. He will move on from Yuuri. It will be ok. Otabek and him will make it through this.

And then he’s there, and his feet have bought to him to this very spot, but –

The old church is not.

Oh, it’s there, still, in parts. Some of it is still standing. But parts of the church have been knocked down, and the whole right hand side is gone, open, a gaping wound where there was once solid stone. A fluoro yellow sign warns the public not to enter, that it’s a demolition site. There’s danger signs, and debris. Crushed bricks, mixed in with broken wood. Shards of glass shining where the sun hits them, in the afternoon sun. The balcony, where they always sat, ruined, one half completely gone, the other half hanging dangerously, crumbling, so close to collapsing entirely.

It’s still there, but barely.

He doesn’t make his way all the way inside. He slinks to the ground, just on the side, in a patch of overgrown grass.

From here he can see it all.

And here, he falls apart.

-

When Yuri gets home it’s almost seven. He hasn’t seen himself in a mirror but he’s aware he must look wrecked. His pants, already scuffed with dirt from the pot plant, now had grass stains on them too. His eyes are red, his face patchy, the lines of dried tears just visible. His hair had come undone from his neat plait hours ago, and it hangs, half undone, fuzzy strands floating about his eyes. He had considered going somewhere to clean up, to pretend that everything was normal, but he can’t. He’s too far gone.

He had realised, as he sat in the ruins of their old church, that the  only way out now is _through_. He needs to talk to Otabek. He _needs_ to tell him, to explain, to apologise, to reconnect. He’s too broken to get through this alone. But maybe they can get through this together.

When he gets the key through the lock, his hands shaking, the smell of food cooking hits him. He can hear the meat sizzling in the pan, can hear music playing, and the soft meows of their tabby, trying to catch a treat from the kitchen table.

He stands there for a moment, back to the door.

 _This_ is all he could lose. He isn’t ready to lose it, not sure he’ll ever be.

He thinks, maybe he could walk right out again. Maybe he could walk right out, go to Mila’s, freshen up, come back like nothing had ever happened. Otabek would never need to know.

But then, as he’s about to quietly open the door again to leave, he hears footsteps and there he is – a grin on his face, his hair messed up, the way it always gets when he’s cooking, in low slung track pants and a faded black hoodie. “Yura,” He says warmly. And then he takes him in –sees him, _sees_ how wrecked he is. “What happened? Yura, are you ok, what happened to you?”

And then he’s there, right there. Arms wrapping around him, enveloping him in the strength of his body. “Yura, oh Yura,” He whispers, and Yuri clings to him as he cries.

Yuri’s aware of Otabek leading him to their bedroom, of him carefully undressing him and laying him down with the blankets over him. Through all this, he cries. And then he’s aware of Otabek leaving –and he begs him not to, but he assures him, it’s just to the kitchen, just to switch the stove off, and he’ll be back. He’ll be back ever so soon.

And he is. He’s there, his arms around him, soothing him, with his soft words and his soft touch. He doesn’t ask any further questions, and Yuri’s not quite sure why. He would, if the roles were reserved. He would _need_ to know. But Otabek just soothes him, and he lets him. Yuri knows he needs to tell him, needs to work out some way that they can get past this, together. This is the moment. He could tell him everything right now, beg for his forgiveness, swear he’d never fuck up again. Work out some way for them to move forward together. It’s no longer something he can hide away anymore, no longer something he can pretend never happened. It’s too big, too overwhelming, and his heart is too wrecked to make it through this on his own. He needs to tell Otabek, needs to work out how they can work through this, together. The only way out now is _through_.

But….

But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t speak and he doesn’t offer any explanation. He just lets his boyfriend hold him tightly in his arms. Maybe it’s wrong, considering what he’s done, and maybe he’s selfish, but he’s terrified that it’s too late, that his mistakes are unforgivable, and he wants to hold onto this, while he still can.

-

He means to tell him.

He knows now. The only way out now is _through_. That’s the only way they’ll get through this.

He means to work out a way to say, _I’m sorry, I made a mistake, and it’s going to hurt you, and I’m more sorry than words could say, but I know that I want to be with you, and I love you, can we work through this?_ That’s not his style, and it’s fucking corny, but still, it needs to be something as simple and yet as complicated as that.

But somehow he can’t quite find the words.

It’s so good, being with Otabek. Even better than before, now that he’s made his final choice, intentional and clear, better now, since he was so close to losing everything, but didn’t. Every moment they spend together now seems sweeter, more imbued with joy.

And Otabek seems so content. Seems to react to the change in him with a change of his own, and it’s amazing, how good this is. He can’t believe he almost let it go.

Yuuri messages him, tries to call him. He ignores him.

It hurts to do that and it hurts to think of him. He can’t stop thinking of him, but he needs to stay strong.

That part of his life is over. Permanently.

He chose this. He chose Otabek.

And he wants this to last forever.

It can’t, of course.

-

In the end, it only lasts a few days.

They are enjoying a quiet dinner in on Friday night. Yuri had cooked, and made borscht. It had turned out well, and they had just finished eating. Yuri was lying on Otabek’s stomach, scrolling through Instagram whilst Otabek was reading the paper.  A print copy, no less, because he was a dinosaur.    

He had just finished posting a photo of the two of them with their dinner, Otabek looking adorable with a fork in his mouth, and him smiling smugly at the camera. #plisetskythebestchefinthehouse #quietnights #truelove <3 <3

“We look so cute,” Yuri says, pleased, twisting to show Otabek.

“Let me see.” Otabek puts the newspaper down on the side table, taking Yuri’s phone out of his hand. “ _You_ look cute. Very cute,” He says with a grin, as he bends down to kiss Yuri’s neck. It tickles, and Yuri laughs, turns his head away.

He’s still laughing when he sees it. On the bottom right hand side, on the page the newspaper has been left open on, there is a small article. It’s tiny, much less than it deserved, about the demolition  of the Church of the Archangel Gabriel. “Hey,” He says, as he grabs the paper. “Did you see this?”

Otabek frowns, and peers at the article, shaking his head. They read through the article together. Yuri had known, of course, but there’s still something unsettling about reading about it in print. And he had never talked about what happened _that_ day to Otabek, never took the chance to discuss it with him, lest he reveal too much about why he was there, and what he had been doing just moments before.

“They’re taking our church down,” Yuri says, voice tight. “I can’t believe they are fucking taking _our_ church down.”

Otabek nods slowly. “They are,” He says. He sounds sad, for sure. But there’s no surprise in his voice.

Yuri turns up to face him. “Had you seen that article before?”

“No.”

“But you knew?”

“It’s very sad,” Otabek simply says.

Yuri sits up, and glares at him. “ _Did you know?_ ”

Otabek shrugs, and he looks oddly evasive. “Yura, it doesn’t matter.”

“The fuck? Don’t give me that bullshit. How long have you known?”

“It doesn’t matter, Yura. It’s going, and we can’t do anything to stop it.”

But it does matter. Because it was _their_ place. And it was being destroyed, and Otabek hadn’t even bothered to tell him. He wishes he had. So that they could have gone there, just one last time, and had a picnic there, listened to music together, sat on the balcony, looking out at nothing, their hands and hearts interlinked.

He should have given him that.

And instead, he hadn’t even bothered to mention that it was being demolished.

He knows he knew too, but by the time Yuri had found out, it had been too late. Way too fucking late. The confusion and sorrow of that day hits him now too, and just manages to fuel his anger.

“ _How long?_ ”

Otabek frowns, and crosses his arms. “A while.”

“And you didn’t fucking bother to tell me? Interesting, considering you made such a big deal about it being special to us before. You should’ve told me, and we could’ve said goodbye. Together.”

Otabek is standing, carefully folding the newspaper away, his lips pursed. Yuri knows Otabek well. This is the moment he exits the conversation, withdraws and finds solitude until Yuri has calmed down. This is the point where Yuri could let this go, walk away and leave this the fight. He could. He should. He doesn’t.

“Don’t you even think of walking away.”

“There’s no point in discussing this,” Otabek says flatly. “It’s being demolished, and there’s nothing we can do. Nothing we could have done, even if I had told you before.” He’s at the living room door now, and it’s only moments before he retreats into the bedroom.

“I know we couldn’t have stopped the demolition! That’s not what I mean, I mean we could’ve done something together, a picnic or….” Yuri sighs. “It was _our_ place, and you loved it, I know you did, and it mattered to me too, and we could’ve said goodbye to it, together, if you’d told me! For fuck’s sake, Beka, I can’t understand why you didn’t fucking tell me.”

Otabek stares at Yuri for a long moment, his eyes inscrutable. He speaks the next words reluctantly and slowly. “We _did_ say goodbye to it, together.”

Yuri blinks, and the moment comes together in his mind. The night after he had surprised Otabek at the club. The night Otabek had oddly suggested they go to the old church near midnight. The night he had spent dozing against Otabek’s shoulder, backed up against the balcony in the old church, the atmosphere tense and confused between them.

“You knew, even then?”

A stiff nod is his only response.

“You could’ve told me! Then I would’ve….” He trails off, not sure where he was going with that.

Otabek looks down, and says something. So softly that Yuri can’t make out his words.

“Beka?”

Otabek shakes his head, without looking up, and makes to leave the room.

“Beka! What did you say?” Yuri’s on him now, hand clasped in his, holding him to his words.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“ _What did you say?_ ”

Otabek is silent for a long time. Then he looks up at Yuri, and his expression is unusually open, his eyes alight with raw unbridled pain. “I couldn’t tell you, then. How could I tell you, when you were –when you were thinking of leaving me….how could I tell you that this place that meant so much to us, that we had…..so many moments from our relationship, this place so important to us….that it was being demolished? How could I tell you? Maybe that was the last piece you would have needed, to leave.”

Yuri gapes at him, lost for words.

Otabek disentangles their hands and crosses his arms. “It was a sign. But it was a sign I did not want to believe in, so I didn’t share it with you.”

“Beka,” Yuri whispers. “Beka……..”

“I wanted to keep you,” Otabek continues, his voice hollow. “So I disregarded it, and hoped that all the other parts of our lives that have brought us together were stronger than that one sign.”

“I don’t believe in fucking signs or shit like that,” Yuri hisses out. “I would never have –I would never have –I would never have left you over _that_.”

“I know you don’t. But _I_ do.” Otabek meets his eyes, and there’s determination mixed in with the pain there. “But I have never believed either, that we have no part to play. So I kept it from you, so I could keep you, too.”

“Beka…..”

“It might sound stupid, but Yura…..Yura –” And his steady, strong voice breaks here. “Yura…….to watch you, to stand by, watching you, _you_ , you who I thought would be with me always, you who I have always – _always_ , you who I have always loved –watching you…. _fall for him_ , to watch you leave me half way….I…..”

“ _Beka_.”

There’s a tear trailing down, sliding down the side of Otabek’s right cheek. Yuri reaches up, to wipe it away, and Otabek lets him. Yuri kisses his cheek, once, twice, a third time. Otabek takes his hands in his, and for a moment they both just stare down at their hands, interlinked, as they have been, a thousand times.

Yuri tugs on their hands, and slowly draws Otabek back to the couch. They sit, Yuri pulling Otabek down, so that his head is resting on his shoulder, his fingers softly running through his dark, short hair. He takes a deep breath. No more pretending. Now is the time to speak, to clear away the debris of the past, so that they can move forward together.

“Beka….I….,” Another deep breath. “Beka, I did have –” He swallows. _Be truthful_. “Beka, I _do_ have some feelings for him –” _Be honest_. “For him, for - Yuuri. I didn’t…..I didn’t fucking expect it, and I didn’t fucking want it, but after him and Victor broke up, and I spent so much time with him –and –and it fucking happened, I caught feelings, and…….”

Otabek pulls away from him, but not too far. Just edging away enough so that he can watch his face. He doesn’t say anything.

Yuri takes another deep breath. “And it was hard….because, it was…..the feelings were –they were strong feelings and….”

“You were in love with him,” Otabek says softly, voice laced with pain. He swallows. “You –you _are_ in love with him.”

“I – ” Yuri sighs heavily. _Be truthful._ “Yes,” He admits, but he can’t bring himself to look at Otabek. “Yes. I was. I am.”

Otabek says nothing to this, and Yuri still can’t bring himself to look up. He continues, staring hard at the leather couch. “I didn’t want to be. I really fucking didn’t, Beka. But it fucking happened.”

He forces himself to look at Otabek. To see the face of the man he loved looking at him, hurt and pain clear across his face. He forces himself not to look away.

“I……I….I’ve stopped spending time with him, because….Beka…I…yes I care for him but it’s nothing compared to us, Beka. This is what I want, Beka. I was…..stupid, fucking stupid, so fucking stupid to risk this. This is it. You and me, Beka. _You and me_.” He thinks maybe he should go on, but also, he thinks those are the only words he needs to say. You and me. That’s all he needs. That’s where this ends.

Otabek considers this for a long moment, rubbing his hands across his face, his eyes hidden behind them for a while. Then he lowers his hands and looks intently at Yuri, his eyes boring deep into him. “Are you certain, Yura?”

“Yes,” Yuri says, clear and without hesitation. He gives him a soft smile. “I want this. You and me. You and me. Forever.”

Otabek is quiet for a long time, staring ahead, his eyes far away. Yuri’s heart beats loudly in his chest, as he awaits a response. But finally he turns, and returns Yuri’s smile, with a slow, soft, one of his own. He reaches out, and takes Yuri’s hand, gently and tenderly. “I am glad,” He says quietly. “These last few months have been so difficult.”

His touch feels solid, real and warm. “You don’t hate me, Beka? Because I would,” Yuri admits. “I would hate you and any fucking piece of shit asshole you happened to fall in love with. I would probably burn their house down.”

“You would,” Otabek agrees, a little fondly. He thinks for a moment. “It hurt, _a lot_. And I didn’t know how to deal with it. At first, I wanted to pretend it wasn’t real, and I threw myself into ignoring it, and….and when you weren’t home again, I would go out, and I ended up just going out more and more, so I wouldn’t have to be at home alone, wondering why you were –with him, instead of with me. And when I couldn’t ignore it anymore, I thought…..it hurt…..but I thought…I thought if I waited, and I stood by you, and with you….I thought maybe you might realise, that you….that what we had…”

“I never once forgot what we had –what we _have_. Never.”

Otabek nods, and continues. “I thought that might work. Just being there for you. And then, when you….when you stopped seeing him, and you were home suddenly all the time again, and I thought –I hoped - that maybe you had decided to stay, and I put everything I had into being there with you, and I hoped……it hurt, a lot. But I never….I never _hated_ you, Yura. I could never hate you.”

Yuri thinks he doesn’t deserve this. “I love you, Beka.”

“I love you, Yura.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. Otabek had been so much more kinder and accepting than he had expected, than he would have been if their roles were reserved. Hope blooms within him, that they will emerge unscarred. “And so….now? Can we forget this whole fucking shitty situation ever happened? And just be together?”

Otabek shakes his head slowly. “I don’t think so. I don’t think I can forget. But we _can_ get through this. I love you, and I want us to get through this.”

“Fuck, I don’t deserve you,” Yuri whispers, as he buries his head in the warmth of Otabek’s body. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Yura.”

They sit there, and the mood somehow turns unexpectedly peaceful. They are going to get through this, they are going stay together, and they are going to be together, forever. Yuri feels luckier than he ever could have imagined.

But something niggles at him, and he wants to ignore it but –

_Be truthful._

_Be honest._

He sighs, and forces himself to get up, out of Otabek’s arms. To sit up properly and to look at Otabek. “Beka.”

Otabek smiles softly at him. “Yeah?”

“I….there’s….something…I’m not sure if you know, or have guessed, or – I have to tell you, even though it doesn’t make a fucking difference, because we’re good, you should know so that….well, you should know.”

His smile has turned into a frown. “What is it?”

“My feelings weren’t - they weren’t unrequited.”

“I  thought so,” Otabek says reluctantly. “I thought he would also……”

“Yeah. He….yeah, he had feelings for me….too.”

Otabek nods, and then sighs. He looks wary. “Is that…. _it?_ ”

It would be so easy, just to nod, just to say yes, that’s it. That there’s no more to this story. But. The only way out now is _through._ He’s been so understanding so far, surely they can get past this part too. Surely they can.

Yuri shakes his head. His throat feels tight, dry. “We –we –” Damn, why are the words so hard to get out? It’s not even like they had fucked. They had only kissed, really. “We kissed.”

Otabek blinks at him. And then he takes a breath, and then shifts, moves ever so slightly away from him. “You kissed him,” He states, and his voice already sounds so different. So cold, so flat.

“We –yeah. But Beka, it was only –” Yuri was going to say it was only twice, and it was true, it had only happened on two occasions, but the second time….they had not just kissed twice, they had kissed and kissed and kissed, unable to get enough of each other.

“You kissed him,” Otabek repeats, in disbelief, and now he stands, slowly but deliberately, moving to the doorway, space between them. His eyes are stony. “Did you do more?”

“No, there was no more, that was it,” Yuri says, but there’s a catch in his voice. He had _wanted_ more. He had _tried_ to do more. He would have done more, had Yuuri not pushed him away.

Otabek can read him too well. He closes his eyes, and looks aside. “There was more,” He says, his voice gone deadly soft.

“No, Beka! It was –we made out, once! The other time, it was just a kiss, one kiss, Beka –”

“How many times did this happen?” Otabek asks harshly.

“Twice, Beka, just twice. That’s it. It’s nothing, Beka, nothing. Beka.” Yuri wants to go to him, to touch him, to hold him, to reassure him, but everything in Otabek’s body language right now says _stay the fuck away_.

“Did you have sex with him?”

“Fuck! I just said we kissed, how the hell does that imply that we –”

“I don’t want to make any erroneous assumptions,” Otabek says coldly. “Considering that I’ve stupidly been operating under the assumption that you wouldn’t do this me for the last few months.”

“Fuck that shit, Beka! It happened on two different times. No more than kissing, I swear. That’s it, Beka.”

“When?”

“Beka, seriously, it was just twice, I swear –”

“ _When?_ ”

Otabek’s tone is harsh, and all of the peace they had moments ago is gone. Yuri feels fear thrumming through him. This can’t be _the_ thing that breaks them, this can’t be it. “Beka, you –you know I was in love with him, how does this fucking matter? How the fuck do two fucking instances of kissing even compare? We talked, and we’re good, Beka, _we’re good_. You told me we’re good, you told me we’d get through this. This doesn’t fucking matter, this doesn’t fucking change that.”

“Are you actually serious?”  

“Beka –I –yes,” Yuri splutters out, and then he stops and thinks. “Yeah…I know it’s shitty, but you were…..you were so ok with me being in love with him, and now you’re angry? I –I know I fucked up, but…wasn’t falling in love with him a bigger fuck up?”

Otabek frowns. “No.”

“But….”

“No,” Otabek continues, and his voice sounds hollow and distant. “Falling in love is…..it’s a feeling. It’s not something you can control. And I was not –I was _not_ ok with it, I wasn’t happy with it at all, but I understood that you didn’t choose it and I believed, and hoped, that our love and bond was strong enough to withstand that. That in time, you would return to me, fully. But this? You _chose_ this. You _chose_ to kiss him, and –and whatever more you did. It’s different. It’s completely different. You _chose_ to betray my trust, knowing exactly how I would have felt about it, Yuri. I can’t believe you would do this, that you would…..” He shakes his head. “I can’t….. _Yura_ …”

“I’m sorry, Beka. I’m so fucking sorry.” Yuri crawls to the other side of the couch, to be closer to where Otabek is standing, and looks up at him, eyes wide and wild. He can’t stand to hear Otabek speak his name like that, like his very name is a betrayal. “Beka, this doesn’t change anything, Beka, I want to be with you. It was a mistake. I just want to be with you, and I’ll make it up to you.”

“You _chose_ to –to kiss him, and I was here, all the time, waiting for you…and you were –”

“I fucked up, Beka, I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Otabek looks at him blankly, like he’s a stranger. “I never thought that you would. I trusted you. Even throughout all of this, I trusted you.”

“It was a mistake, Beka, a really stupid fucking mistake.”

“I like to think I have a good sense of judgement but –”

“It’s not your sense of judgement that’s fucked up! It’s mine! I accept it, I fucked up, Beka! Just listen to me, it was a mistake and I’m sorry, and it’s over.”

“I don’t know how I would even be able to trust that this wouldn’t happen again.” He speaks the words hopelessly, and Yuri’s heart aches. Yuri _needs_ to reach him somehow, _needs_ him to hear him, _needs_ him to believe him once more.

“It won’t, Beka, _I promise_. Never again. Beka it won’t happen again because I chose _you_ , Beka. And, and I’d chose you, over and over again! Fuck Beka, I know I fucked up, but I know now, I know I’d chose you, every time!” Yuri reaches over, and desperately grabs Otabek’s hand, clasping it tightly in his. “Beka, forgive me, forgive me, it’s over. You’re the only one for me.”

Otabek twists his wrist and pulls away immediately, recoiling from his touch, as if Yuri is poisonous. His voice is cold and unyielding. “The choices are no longer all yours, Yuri.”

“ _Beka_ ,” Yuri gasps, and he slumps back on the couch. The tears start to fall.

Otabek pays no mind to his tears, and there’s no warmth left in his eyes when he looks at him. “ _When_. Tell me when you did this.”

Yuri slams his fist against the leather couch, but it’s a weak motion, with little energy behind it. “Fuck. Fine,” He whimpers. “Fine. It happened… the first time was a few weeks ago, on a Friday night. It wasn’t….it was just a fucking kiss, just…not even, not even anything. And the next……fuck, Beka….”

“When.” Otabek just repeats, his voice flat.

He doesn’t want to say, he doesn’t. “Fuck. It was –you saw me on Monday, I – fuck, I’m sorry I fucked up, ok? I fucked up big time, but we’ve got this right? Beka, please.”

“You were a mess on Monday,” Otabek says, considering.

“I was, Beka, and it was because I knew I’d fucked up and –”

“You let me look after you. I held you –and I - ” Otabek is trembling now, and he places a hand against the wall, clinging onto it, for support. His eyes flicker shut. “You were with _him_ , and I never knew– I had no idea, and I – I didn’t know you had been with him and– you let me look after you, after - and _you never said a word_.”

“I just wanted to be with you, Beka…..I just wanted you to hold me.”

A tear slowly makes its way down Otabek’s cheek, but this time Yuri doesn’t reach up to wipe it gently away. He would not be allowed. “You let me hold you, and look after you….and you never said….”

“Beka,” He pleads, voice choked up with tears. “Beka, I just wanted –I just wanted to be yours, Beka. I love you, Beka, I love you.”

Otabek isn’t listening anymore. “You never said anything. You just –you just let me –”

Yuri snaps. His voice comes out broken and angry. “Well, what the fuck did you think! You must have known _something_ was up! But you didn’t fucking ask! _You never fucking asked!_ ”

He’s aware it’s the wrong thing to say as soon as he’s said it. Probably should’ve been aware before he even said it, but he’s never been the best with thinking before he speaks, and he’s frustrated, hurt and desperate and the words just spill out.  

Otabek just looks directly at him, eyes full of contempt and lips curled up in a sneer. He looks cruel.  

He’s never looked at him like that before. He’s never seen him look at anyone like that before.

“Ah. So that was my fault. I see.”

“No, Beka –Beka –”

“No. You’re right, Yuri. I see now that it was foolish of me to trust my boyfriend, to assume he wouldn’t cheat on me.”

“Beka! I’m sorry, Beka, I’m sorry,” Yuri gets up, he can’t bear this anymore, can’t bear the distance between them. They belong _together_ , not falling apart like this. He flings himself at Otabek, throws himself around him, sobbing as he grabs onto him. “I love you, Beka. I love you, and I fucked up, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Otabek coldly and very efficiently removes Yuri from his body, and steps back.

Yuri crumples to the floor and sobs even louder, grasping at Otabek’s legs. He wants him, he needs him, he’s losing him.

Otabek leans down, and again, easily disentangles their bodies.

And then he’s gone, moving away from him.

Yuri gasps, and shakily pulls himself up to his feet, slowly following Otabek to the bedroom, his hand gripping on the wall for the support the whole way through.

Otabek is pulling underwear and t-shirts from his drawer and his rucksack is already thrown open on their bed, a jumper already inside it.

“What the fuck! What the fuck?” Yuri wails, as he grabs the rucksack and throws it off the bed. Their tabby startles and flees the room with a indigent meow. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Otabek ignores him, simply picking up the bag and continuing to pack it. Underwear, t-shirts, a pair of jeans, his toothbrush, his headset. He’s leaving him. _He can’t leave him_.

Yuri collapses on the bed. He can barely breath. “You’re not leaving me,” He gasps out, frantically clutching at their sheets for strength. “You are _not_ leaving me.”

He receives no reassurance, nor even any acknowledgement of his words.

“Don’t leave me,” He begs, his voice choked through sobs. “Don’t leave me,” He begs, over and over again. “Don’t leave me, Beka, don’t leave me.” He wails, howls, and cries, pounding his fists uselessly against the bedsheets, but Otabek barely looks at him.

Soon Otabek is done, and he’s zipping the bag closed, and checking around the room, as if there’s anything he’s forgotten. _Me_ , Yuri wants to cry, _me_. But Otabek’s stopped listening to him.

Otabek does stop at the bedroom door, rucksack slung over his shoulder, black leather jacket on, and his keys wrapped tightly in his hand. He stares at Yuri for a long moment, and Yuri stares at him back, through the haze of his tears. Otabek’s always been distant with most, but never with him. Right now though, he can’t reach him at all.

“I’m going to stay at a friend’s house for a while,” Otabek eventually says.  

He turns to go.

“Beka! Beka, don’t go, please, Beka, don’t leave me,” Yuri shouts, screams, like it’s his last chance, and maybe it is.

Otabek hesitates, turns for a moment, and Yuri’s heart jumps, and he thinks – but Otabek just looks over him slowly one more time, his eyes haunted. “I was planning to ask you to marry me, on our ten year anniversary,” He finally says, and his voice is as empty as he’s ever heard it.

And then he’s gone.

-

There’s radio silence for the next day. Otabek’s phone is off, and he doesn’t reply to any other form of communication either. Yuri swallows his pride and calls the few people in St. Petersburg that Otabek considers friends, to find out where he is, but no one has heard from him.

Yuri lies in bed, mired in grief, and wonders if he’ll ever come back.

-

On the second day since he left, Yuri receives a text message.

<beka> I’m at home. I’m going to stay here for a while. I’ll call you later.

The text makes no sense, because _he’s_ at home, he’s been at home ever since he left and _he is not here_. He shakes as he reads it, wondering if he’s lost his mind, if he’s in an alternate universe. Then it hits him in a flash of pain.

Otabek must be in Almaty. It hurts because he’s so far away, but it also hurts because _this_ is their home. He remembers the broad smile on Otabek’s face, more than six years ago, on the day they had signed the contract and put the deposit down, the apartment title listing both their names, side by side. He remembers jumping on Otabek, swinging his legs around him, and making his much shorter but strong boyfriend carry him around to every part of their new apartment, the two of them laughing. He remembers Otabek placing him gently on the floor, talking all sorts of sappy shit, and making love to him on the bare wooden floorboards, because they needed to make the place _theirs_ , and they couldn’t wait for the furniture to arrive. “This is _our_ home,” Otabek had whispered, his eyes full of joy, gazing down at Yuri in wonder, as he slowly moved against him. “Yours. And Mine.” Yuri could not forget that. Could not forget that, nor the way their lives had meshed together to make this what it was –the only place he could think of as _home_ now. Apparently Otabek doesn’t feel the same anymore.

He presses the call button but it rings through. He tries again, and again.

And again.

Otabek doesn’t pick up.

<yuri> home the fuck??? im at home pls come home beka i need u

<yuri> beka pls talk 2 me

<yuri> fuck r u telling ur family abt this?? theyre gonna fucking hate me beka pls come home we can talk i need u i love u

<beka> You don’t need to worry about your ‘reputation’ with my family. I’m not planning on spreading this around widely.

<yuri> beka pls we can talk im a wreck

<beka> I’m not ready to talk yet.

<yuri> beka i fucking need u i messed up im so sorry call me pls

<beka> I need some space, Yuri. I said I would call you later.

<yuri> when tell me when beka ill wait

<yuri> im so sorry i love u so much

<yuri> tell me u love me tell me beka ill wait 4 u 4ever

<beka> I’m not sure. I’ll speak to you when I’m ready.

<yuri> not sure??????which part

<yuri> not sure u love me or when ull speak to me beka which part

<yuri> beka r u leaving me?????????? beka pls r u leaving me??????? pls dont leave me i need u

There’s no response.

-

Raziya calls him the next day. He’s still lying in bed, even though it’s past noon, and if you asked him what he had been doing all day, he wouldn’t be able to tell you.

“Yura,” She says, and her voice sounds tired and weary.

“Hey.” His voice sounds worse.

“You fucked up.” Raziya is the person he got along best with in Otabek’s family. She’s blunt and to the point, and a little bit of a terror in her own way. Yuri’s pretty sure that most of Otabek’s family at least secretly think that if it weren’t for Yuri, Otabek would still be home in Kazakhstan, married to a smart and successful woman, with smart and successful children of their own. They’ve been together for a long time now, and most of the family had slowly come around to the fact that their son and brother was in a long term committed relationship with a man, but he still thinks that they would secretly prefer if it wasn’t the case. Raziya, Otabek’s younger sister, and Otabek’s older brother, Temir, are the only ones he’s sure don’t care. Mostly he hadn’t cared what the rest of Otabek’s family thought, because Otabek and him were gay and happy, and he’d thought _fuck them_ , if they couldn’t accept that. But sometimes he had listened to Otabek calling home, a mixture of joy and longing in his voice, and feared that it had been his fault that Otabek had detoured so widely from the dream that had been laid out for him. The one time he had mentioned it to Otabek, he had frowned, and stated simply, ‘I made my own choices. And I have no regrets.’

“Yeah,” He agrees weakly. “I bet everyone hates me now. Probably thinking it’s exactly the type of thing a faggot would do.”

Raziya snorts. “Don’t be stupid. Plenty of heterosexuals are experts at cheating, trust me, I see it all the time. And no, nobody knows what happened except me. I mean, look, they get that it’s not all peachy, considering Beka just turned up out of the blue and is moping around all day. But they don’t know what happened, only I know. So only I hate you.”

“I deserve it.”

“Fuck Yura, you’re really messed up, hey? This isn’t like you. Where’s your fight?”

“Gone.”

“Huh.”

“Is he…..is he there?”

“No. I mean, he’s around the place but he’s not here right now. He doesn’t know I’m calling you.”

“He won’t speak to me.”

“He’s upset. You know how he is. He needs time and space to come around, sometimes.”

Yuri is silent, can’t think of what to say, doesn’t have any energy left.

“Yura, you gotta look after yourself ok? Are you eating? Sleeping? You gotta look after yourself for when he comes back.”

His heart jumps with hope. “He’s coming back?”

“No, I –” Raziya says softly, apologetically. “I should have phrased that better, I’m sorry. I don’t know, Yura. I hope he does. But I don’t know.”

He manages a choked goodbye, before he hangs up and sobs loudly into the pillow.

-

There’s several missed calls from Yuuri on his phone. Text messages asking if he’s ok, if he wants to talk, _anything you need Yuri, just let me know, I’m here_.

He ignores them all.

-

Mila comes around on the third day he skips work. He lets her in, reluctantly, after she screams through the door that she’s going to kick it down if he doesn’t open it. She looks him and up and down, a frown on her face. “You need to eat, sweetpea. And shower. Go and have a shower, I’m going to call for some take out. Do you have a preference?”

He shrugs.

She sighs, gives his shoulder a squeeze and then nudges him towards the shower. “Your hair,” She says, running a hand through the now knotty and oily strands. “I’m no good with long hair. Too bad Georgi isn’t here. Break ups are kind of his thing.”

Mila looks at him expectantly and Yuri belatedly realises she’s waiting for him to make a quip about Georgi. He has nothing.

“Oh darling. It can’t be so bad, he loves you so much. He’s _always_ loved so much. He’ll be back.”

“I don’t think so,” He whispers, and his voice sounds so empty, so flat.

“Oh darling,” She says again, and this time she envelopes him in a tight hug, her arms strong and solid around him, holding him steady.

He’s not really sure it helps. But he lets her.

-

He’s not sure how long this lasts. His calendar tells him it’s only been a week since he left, but he feels like it’s a lifetime. He doesn’t recognise himself in the mirror. His hair is lank, knots running throughout it. He doesn’t have the energy or ambition to comb it. There’s no one around, anyway, to run _his_ hands through his hair, to tell him how pretty he looks. He’s lost weight and his clothes hang off him. His face looks deathly pale. He hasn’t shaved in days and he has uneven blonde stubble across his face. His lips are chapped, and there’s dark, lined circles under his eyes.

He looks awful but he doesn’t care, because he has no one left to look good for, and the only energy he has, he needs that to feed the cats, and to stare at his phone, waiting for the call he’s now sure will never come.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END. 
> 
> ha, not yet. i hope you're enjoying it so far! 
> 
> please comment and/or leave kudos if you have enjoyed it, comments and kudos feed me!! :-)


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